Dawn's POV
By the time dinner was finished, my kitchen looked like a small Italian restaurant had experienced an explosion.
Pots filled the sink, sauce splattered the stove.
There was enough dirty plates covered the counter to make me question why I hadn't ordered pizza.
But everyone was full, and my son was walking around with the confidence of a five-star chef.
I'd call that a success.
"All right, Chef Evan. Time to clean up."
He stared at me. "What?"
"You cooked. Congratulations. Now comes the glamorous part."
"Mom!"
"What? You think Gordon Ramsay leaves his kitchen looking like a crime scene?"
Chelsea snorted.
Evan rolled his eyes.
"I'll help."
"Thank you, sweetheart."
He carried plates to the sink while Tanner collected cups.
Grant and Bull offered to help, but I wave
